


Though There Be Fury On The Waves

by koalaboy



Category: A New Brain - Finn/Lapine
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalaboy/pseuds/koalaboy
Summary: The last thing Roger remembers is closing his eyes and submitting himself to the turbulent ocean and things only get worse from there.





	1. Beneath The Dark Blue Waves

The last thing Roger remembers is closing his eyes and submitting himself to the turbulent ocean. Drenched by the waves and the rain, a huge gash down the middle of his main sail, and his rudder completely lost to the depths, he had no choice but to hang on to the ropes of his tiny vessel with all of his might in an attempt to keep her upright. She was gathering water and the deck was slippery and hazardous. The tiller swings wildly from the wind and the ocean current and smacks in to his shin, causing him to let out a wail of pain. The next thing he knew he was staring down a massive wave which threatened to capsize him and with his last breath he prays that his death would be a quick one and that Gordon would know just how much he loved him.

The memories after that were a mixture of pain, the burning of salt water in his lungs, panicked breathing, and loud voices telling him not to move as they put a splint on his leg. He can see the remains of the US 412, tied to the larger tug boat and catches sight of the paramedics uniform. Once his body realises that he's safe, he gives in to the exhaustion.

Roger awakes with a groan, attempting to stretch out in the uncomfortable bed and being met with a sharp pain that darts up his leg. He slowly opens his eyes and catches the outline of an oxygen mask below them. He groans louder in distress, reaching out and fumbling blindly. He feels the tiny tube that goes all the way in to his arm and his eyes snap wide open, his breaths painful and sharp; he could feel the thick liquid as it seeped from the needle in to his vein and it made him whine in panic.

Suddenly, and without warning, Gordon is there, his hands on his chest, pushing him back in to the bed. The touch catches him off guard and Roger makes another noise of confused alarm. Gordon is saying something angry and muffled at him and Roger squints, trying to make out the individual words. Finally, his ears adjust to the sounds of the hospital and his focus moves from the loud, insistent beeping to Gordon's voice and he catches the last "motherfucker" of his sentence.

"Nnn," is all Roger can manage, gripping like a child at Gordon's arms, willing him to stay close.

Gordon obeys and very slowly, so as not to spook him, lays beside him on the bed.

Roger blinks back tears, afraid to move his arm in case it pulled on the drip needle, but desperately needing to stroke Gordon's cheek.

"You had an accident," Gordon explains, reaching up to cup Roger's cheek which was a little bruised.

Roger leans in to the welcomed touch which seemed to make things just that little bit better.

"They have you on some fluids and a little bit of morphine for the leg."

Roger closes his eyes and groans; he'd been on morphine as a child when he had broken his arm severely and it had fucked with his sensory issues to the point where he couldn't stand the tiniest of noises. It had been hell.

"'M... sorry," Roger murmurs, the words causing air to sting his throat and a fit of coughs ensues.

Gordon holds his body as steady as he could, tears running down his cheeks at seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

He had called Roger's phone countless times, watching live radar footage of the storm as it swallowed Cuttyhunk island. Gordon had never been so absolutely terrified in his life, and he was still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. The immediate regret that had washed over him when he had heard of the storm was like nothing he had ever experienced.

'Go on then, go and fucking sail away,' he had told Roger in a fit of rage at just how annoying he was being. Couldn't he understand that what Gordon needed to write was silence? But he didn't and he would forget and although Gordon knew it wasn't intentional, Roger's commentary on the weather had been driving him insane. After that things had escalated, both of them stubborn and emotionally distant, their diagnosis' clashing like waves against the base of a cliff; violent, harsh, but natural.

"Don't be sorry, baby," Gordon murmurs back, gently smoothing out Roger's hair.

It was imperfect: they had shaved some at the back in order to stitch up the open wound on his head, but Gordon loved it nonetheless.

Roger's lungs wheeze as he breathes, rattling like a nail in a tin can as he tries to form words.

"Y-you still... mm... love me?" he mumbles, looking up at Gordon.

He gasps, pressing kisses to Roger's forehead, "Yes, yes of course I do, babe."

Roger nods, slowly leaning in to Gordon until he was completely in his arms, his eyes closed.

He sleeps the night away and when he wakes Gordon has gone, leaving a note about having to record a demo and that he'd be back soon. Roger didn't mind the quiet.


	2. The Awful Spirits Of The Deep

High heels echo down the hospital corridor towards Roger's room. Lilith was tall, slim, and a harsh kind of pretty. She had Roger's eyes and cheekbones, but none of his warmth or generosity. While she had been loving once, and Roger had loved her, when her child had drifted from her image of what she wanted and expected him to be, she had turned to ice.

She wore a grey blazer and skirt, everything as colourless as her face; even her nails, although painted, were an odd shade of grey. She resembled a marble statue of some Greek goddess, you admired her from a distance, but dare not endure her wrath should you disturb her.

* * *

Roger was all alone in his hospital room, picking out the bits of bacon from his Caesar salad that a nurse had brought him for lunch.

Lilith rolls her eyes, watching him through the window from the hallway. The image bringing back memories of her son picking things out of his food at every meal.

"Roger," she calls, standing in the doorway.

Roger freezes, looking up from his fork to stare at her, his lips in a thin line.

"What are you here for?"

She travels a few steps closer to him, "Your father tracked the boat number when we got a call about it needing repair. They said you had been in an accident."

There was a long pause as Roger tries to process his emotions upon seeing her again.

"Well. I'm fine," he says, her perfume suffocating him like a poisonous gas. She always put too much on.

He returns to his salad, finally satisfied that all the bacon was gone.

"You should have been more careful," she says, real concern covered easily by her cold tone.

"Should have done a lot of things," he mumbles, his mouth full.

She grimaces, "How many times have I told you not to speak with food in your mouth?"

He swallows and makes sure to gather as much salad on his fork as he could before he puts it in to his mouth and starts to chew, staring her down.

"There's no need to be like that," she snaps.

Roger goes to reply, but is cut off by Richard's high sing-song voice, "Mimi said she's busy with a court case, but the second it's over she'll be here. And look! Flowers!"

He marches in to the room, giving Lilith a side eye as she steps away from him. He places the flowers down on the desk beside Roger's bed. Mimi had picked flowers that didn't have strong scents, it was sweet.

"You alright, honey?" Richard asks, checking Roger's chart and making a note to bring him Kosher food.

Roger nods, cracking a smile at the face Richard gives him with his back to Lilith before he leaves.

Lilith comes closer, an actual smile on her face, "I am so pleased you're alright, Roger."

He looks up at her, slightly confused, "Um. Thanks."

She was content with the fact that her son had finally found himself a girlfriend, maybe even a wife, g-d willing. And a lawyer, too. She knew she had raised him right.

"I'm surprised they let nurses like that work. It's a wonder he doesn't have a cardiac arrest."

Roger would have been surprised at her comment had he not already known how deeply his mother hated fat people. She thought they were lazy.

"He's the only nice person in this place," Roger mumbles, stabbing a piece of lettuce with his fork to emphasise his point.

His mother sighs, she hadn't meant to upset her son.

"I just mean... you know, he's obviously... homosexual. And with those _diseases_ they can carry," she shivers at the thought.

Roger rolls his eyes, stabbing another piece of lettuce and imagining it was her head. It was very therapeutic.

Moments of silence pass between them. She hesitantly rests her hand atop of his. Maybe she was finally, after all of these years, starting to change, Roger thought. Even if he now wanted nothing to do with her, the little bit of affection she was showing meant the world to him.

"And I'm very glad you got over your little phase," she adds.

He pauses, taking his hand back from her suddenly, "You don't know what you're saying, Mother. Please just go."

"But, I-"

He takes a deep breath which hurt his lungs.

"Mother, my whole life you have only ever given me affection when I've done something you've approved of. And..., " the thought had been nagging at him since she entered the room, "I-I don't think you've ever told me you loved me."

She scoffs, standing up and placing a hand on her chest to show her offence, "How was I supposed to? Every time I tried to hug you, you would scream or cry. I just wanted to hug my son. There was no way I could have showed you love, Roger. You were an insufferable child."

Roger shakes his head, looking down at his salad so he didn't have to meet her disapproving gaze and she couldn't see his tears, "You could have just... just _said_ 'I love you'."

She huffs, smoothing the creases from her skirt, "You have just lost any chance of hearing that after how you've treated me today."

Roger laughs, amused in a sick way at how cruel she could be. He looks up at her, tears dripping from his cheeks to wet his hospital gown, "I'm a gay man, Momma. And whether you want me to be or not, that's what I am. I have a lovely, lovely boyfriend who just recently was hired to write for an off-Broadway show. We are _so in love_. Those flowers are from his mother who raised me when you turned away."

She goes to speak, but he holds up a hand, "The best thing you can do for me... is leave."

Richard slips in to Roger's room as Lilith leaves.

"Oh, honey..." he coos.

Roger collapses back on to the bed, letting out a quiet sob.

"I hurt all over," he whines, "Please call Gordon and tell him my Mother came and saw me."

Richard nods, pouring Roger a glass of water because he knew he'd be dehydrated after crying. He quietly slips away, letting Roger cry. He decides it's nothing that Gordon couldn't make better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ocean  
> By Nathaniel Hawthorne 
> 
> The Ocean has its silent caves,  
> Deep, quiet, and alone;  
> Though there be fury on the waves,  
> Beneath them there is none.
> 
> The awful spirits of the deep  
> Hold their communion there;  
> And there are those for whom we weep,  
> The young, the bright, the fair.
> 
> Calmly the wearied seamen rest  
> Beneath their own blue sea.  
> The ocean solitudes are blest,  
> For there is purity.
> 
> The earth has guilt, the earth has care,  
> Unquiet are its graves;  
> But peaceful sleep is ever there,  
> Beneath the dark blue waves.


End file.
